A Perfect Imagination
by Erullisse
Summary: She will see them in their dreams . . .


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**A Perfect Imagination**

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Niall stood at the well of souls, golden silk polled all around him. As a keeper of the gate, he watched as he always did, gently ushering them through . . . the tired, the weary. Those that had been taken so much too soon. The tender wings of an angel awaited them on the other side, welcoming that most precious part of their souls home . The light inside whirled and swirled, then through the mix of greys and greens there came a light. The spark of sheer imagination belonged to so very few, an imagination that burned so bright it refused to not be seen.

"Go, he said as the burn grew brighter. "One must go and get her."

_"She is mine."_

Every eye turned to see the one who stood among them.

Tall and lean with brilliant blond hair spread bright over broad and bare shoulders, he bore no marks that gave hint to his identity, but the vampire did not need a cloak or crown. Eric never entered these chambers, yet with every footstep, a chime split the air; herald to a dream that walked the shadows of the night. Fangs shimmered against his lips, fire burning in his pale blue eyes. The vampire smelled of blood and sex and unfilled promises made under the glow of a midnight moon, his power palpable as he strode onto the dais.

The others backed away with a rustle of robes, females unable to stop themselves as they gazed at him in wonder. Niall tipped his chin back, silently asking. Sookie sent back a single word. _"Please."_ Then a sigh whispered through the room, and Eric was somewhere else.

Lovingly carves stones stood firm against the fingers of the moon, threw their shadows proudly against those of the trees. They were a necessary avenue for the ones left behind as they struggled to find peace, yet Eric found them sorely unworthy for one who still burned so bright. It was the third night, and he hit his knees without hesitation, hand outstretched over the newly turned earth.

"_M I N E."_

He said it again and again, calling until the air burned and began to split open. The magic of the moon flared with power, straining along with him. A gust of wind whispered overhead, then light flamed to life before him. Eric's arms stretched out, then she was curling against his chest, head tucked under his chin. Her eyes opened, bright and strong, though she hesitated. Unsure. Knowing it would be the last time she saw this place.

_I don't understand._

Eric stroked the hair back from her face, lifted her up and up, flying them away. "They will never forget. They will see you in their dreams. That part of you awaits them on the other side, but this . . . this is my gift to you."

He turned her around, helping her face a sky filled with white light, then they were there . . . a beautiful place with ancient ships waiting at anchor. Mountains stretched in the distance, snow sparkled on the ground. There were lush green hills and distant cities, and magical paths that thanked her for it all. Each step toward the house made her heart feel lighter as Eric opened the door. An endless hall stretched before her. A hundred doors, then a thousand more still; each one set with a leather bound book before it. Some were worn ragged around the edges, the words read and read as they begged for more. Others whispered with ideas, more blank and beckoning still. Great windows welcomed her to watch as six precious pieces of her continue to grow and learn; mirrors reflecting the hundreds who thought of her still. The ones who hurt and found comfort. That thanked her for making their day. All those that laughed and loved her through it all.

Now a new desk waited, with pens and pencils and ink; humming with pleasure when Eric walked her in the room. Each piece of paper whispered their secrets in her ear, and she could not help but smile as she pulled up a chair and cracked open that blue and silver can. She would see them in their dreams. She would share their secret tears and celebrate their every victory. Her friends would carry on, and hand-in-hand they would forever dance in the world of a perfect imagination.

_In memoriam to one who inspired us all . . . _

~E~


End file.
